


Not Everything Stays in Vegas

by themutesinger



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Some angst, Vegas, shitty and his ideas, underage/irresponsible drinking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-31
Updated: 2015-07-29
Packaged: 2018-03-29 05:16:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3883741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themutesinger/pseuds/themutesinger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shitty decides that a road trip to Vegas is just what the Hausmates need during Spring Break. Time to bond before the seniors graduate and all. Some just... Bond in unexpected ways.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Plans are Made

**Author's Note:**

> So Jack/Bitty is still my fav but Kent/ Bitty is my guilty pleasure. Also I wanna start calling them Parsle 'cuz it sounds so cute! Playlist available here: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLfy9bugK_Ljm-58dq2nmUnYZ1G3Dp5GBq

"We should road trip it to Vegas for Spring Break!" Shitty announces during one of the Haus' "Extreme Mario Kart Tournaments". 

"No" Jack says from the armchair, using his 'I'm-captain-and-you're-going-to-listen-to-me' voice. 

"That sounds awesome man!" Holster exclaims, fingers rapidly pushing buttons on his controller, his character ramming Baby Peach (©?) off of the nearest waterfall. 

"What sounds awesome?" Bitty asks, slipping out with a tray of assorted cookies and a case of beer. 

"Shitty thinks we should go to Vegas for Spring Break!" Ransom says, howling happily when he crosses the finish line in first. 

"Well, that does sound fun, but some of us ain't twenty-one," Bitty replies. Shitty just waves a hand at him, producing an envelope. 

"Johnson's got us covered for that!" Shitty slips his hand in and pulls out four plastic cards. "Fake I.D.s brosephs! The note said something about 'moving the plot along and staying realistic' whatever the fuck that means."

"I don't know y'all..." 

"Bitty's right to be worried, what if you get caught using fake I.D.s? There's so much that could go wrong. Count me out." Jack says, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow. 

"Rans and I are both legal so we're definitely going!" Holster says, throwing Ransom into a headlock. Dex just shakes his head over his computer then goes back to tapping the keys into submission. Nursey shrugs his shoulders, " Sure why not, more time to chill."

"I know Lardo's gonna want to come, so we're just down to Bits and Chowder! what d'ya say bros?" Shitty turns to them both with a wildly exited look in his eyes, both brows raised expectantly.

"I guess it sounds fun! I mean, hanging out with the team would be great! And Vegas is nice! So, yeah, I guess I'll come!" Chowder says, looking around as if afraid he gave the wrong answer. And with that there is no way Bitty isn't going; if only to keep a maternal eye on his sweet little goalie child.

"Alright, fine, I'm coming! Y'all need someone to chaperone anyhow."

"That's the spirit Bits! I'm gonna go call Lardo!" Shitty yells exuberantly, running into the Haus; and their fates were sealed.

\---

"Shitty! Hurry up! The rental van's outside!" Lardo yells up the stairs.

"I'm not the only one runnin' behind! Go yell at someone else!" Shitty yells back as Bitty runs down the stairs.

"Lardo have you seen Jack? I wanted to say goodbye and leave him some cookies."

"I think he's still sulking in his room Bits."

"Thank you!" Bitty runs back upstairs, and knocks on Jack's door before slipping inside. " Hey Jack. Just came to say bye and give you your care package." Said care package being a large bag full of various baked goods, the good kind of instant coffee, a folded note, and a notepad of recipes. "Don't worry, they're all super easy, there's no way you can mess them up!"

"I don't burn everything I make Bittle!"

"Of course not! Just makin' sure. Are you sure you'll be alright all by yourself?"

"I've still got Dex! Don't worry Bittle, I'll be fine, still don't think this is smart though. You be careful, eh?"

"Always!"

"And don't let Shitty talk you into doing anything stupid!"

"I won't! Between me and Lardo, we should be able to keep those boys in line."

"Alright. Bye Bittle."

"Bye Jack!" Bitty says, pulling him into a last minute side-hug, then flushing and leaving the room. When he gets downstairs he notices that no one but him, Lardo, and Chowder are ready and sighs. "Alright, if y'all ain't down here and ready to go in the next five minutes I'm cutting y'all off until graduation. You'll have to make do with dining hall meals and nothing else!" The sounds of loud thumping and rushed stuffing of bags is extremely gratifying, as is the discernible chuckling from Jack's room.

"I don't know what's taking Nursey so long, he doesn't even live here," Chowder says, adorable confusion painted on his face.

"I think Rans and Holster roped him into helping 'em pack, poor thing." Bitty says. Finally the other four thunder down the stairs, bags ready, and Bitty sighs. "Alright let's go y'all! Bye Jack!"

"Don't forget to eat protein!" Jack calls back, and the whole team shakes their heads and groans. 

\---

The car ride- van ride?- is loud and by the end of it Bitty has a headache and is tempted to put a temporary pie boycott in place to get Ransom and Holster to stop yelling about which clubs they want to hit first and Shitty to stop rambling about the effects of show business on women's rights to Lardo. Chowder is bouncing excitedly in his seat and Nursey keeps telling him to chill. Finally, enough is enough and he plugs his headphones in, blasting Beyoncé to unholy levels to block out the noise. 

He doesn't remember falling asleep but wakes to Shitty enthusiasticly shaking his shoulder and pointing. Bitty peers out the car window at what has to be Vegas' legendary strip, all lights and colour, a beautiful beacon of light pollution that he couldn't wait to explore. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just laying foundations, promise Parse is in the next chapter!


	2. Tell Me How its Looking Babe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Samwell Hockey Gang celebrates their first proper night in Vegas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the time in between chapters. Also warning for nsfw content. And I'm sorry if it sucks I'm super new to writing smut...

Eric slipped his feet into a pair of navy blue boat shoes, stopping to admire his appearance. The tight white denim of his shorts clung mid-thigh and the dark navy of his button-up shirt made a stark contrast against his Boston-winter-pale skin. He lets the top four buttons of his shirt hang open, revealing a nice triangle of skin, and runs his hands through his hair one last time, making sure the flop on top of his head was curled in the right direction. 

"Yo, Bits, you coming or what?" Shitty asks, popping his head into the bathroom. 

"Yeah, one sec!" He quickly sprays himself with a bit of cologne then turns off the light. "Alright let's go!" Shitty looks Bitty over with a whistle.

"Looking mighty fine there Mr. Bittle." 

"And you're lookin' unique as always Mr. Knight," Bitty replies, taking in the crop-topped skinny-jeaned wonder that was Shitty's outfit. Shitty chuckles and throws an arm around his shoulders, leading him out of the room to where the rest of the group waits, ready to go to that Thai restaurant Lardo had found on one of her brochure raids. 

\---

 Bitty wasn't sure how they wound up in this club in particular (there might have been some drinking involved), but he couldn't say he minded much. He managed to snag Chowder and was keeping an eye on him under the pretense of dancing with him. Not that dancing to Queen B was in any way a chore for him, and there was nothing stopping him from going all in when Yoncé faded into Partition. He rolled his hips and swayed his shoulders, dancing with all the grace figure-skating had afforded him.  About halfway through the song he felt questing fingers on his hips, and tilted his head back to find none other then Kent _freaking_ Parson giving him a smirk to die for, asking for a dance. He pauses, then nods his acquiescence and hesitantly gets back into the rhythm he had going before the interruption, this time with a solid weight at his back and something firm grinding against him. He starts feeling hot, a flush starting from his chest and rising slowly. He barely notices when the song changes, this one full of thumping slow bass. They dance until the song ends and then Parson leans in to ask if he wants a drink. He nods, not trusting his ability to yell above the crowd. He lets Parson link their fingers together and lead them to the bar. When they get there he orders a long island iced tea, trying to look larger than he actually is.

"I'm going to need an ID for that sir," the bartender says, staring down all 5"6 and a half inches of Eric Bittle. He sighs and takes the one he got from Johnson out of his pocket, sliding it towards the bartender who looks it over before nodding. He picks the card back up and slides it into his back pocket. Parson smiles at him as he takes his own drink, leaning in to whisper "Fake ID huh?" 

"Well, Mr.Parson, just how did you think I got in here?" 

"I just thought you charmed them with that accent of yours. That or you bribed them with one of your pies, I've seen pictures." 

"Well, thank you for the confidence Parse, but no. We got them from Johnson, our last goalie. That boy's crazier then a sack of rabid cats. He's real nice though." Bitty takes a gulp of his drink then turns to face Parson head on. "Now then Mr. Parson, just what does a boy like you want with little old me?"

Parson scratches the back of his neck, knocking his cap askew. "Well, at first I just wanted to apologize for what you heard that night when I fought with Jack. You shouldn't have had to listen to that shit, so I'm sorry."

"Apology accepted. Although I feel like I should be apologizin' for overhearing."

"You didn't mean to though, you just dropped your key."

"I know, doesn't change that I'm mighty sorry about it anyways. What's the other reason then? You did say 'at first'." 

"Well, uh, I saw you dancing and, well, I admit I completely forgot about what I wanted to say. Those hips of yours are dangerous Bittle." 

"Well, I... Goodness me," Bitty squeaks out, his flush returning tenfold, cheeks flaming red. He leans in and straightens Parson's hat, and with as much confidence as he can muster quietly asks, "And what would you like to do with me now, Mr.Parson?" Parse gulps, then slides his hands over Bitty's hips.

"Well first I'd like another dance, and then maybe we can go back to my place, hmm?" That cocky grin of his returns when Bitty's flush rises to the tips of his ears, and he truly looks like the cat that ate the canary when Bitty mutters an emphatic "Yes, _please_." They down their drinks and move back to the dance floor, taking up their former postions, and resuming the pleasing grind that had them both hot under the collar. When the music shifts in beat, Bitty turns around, pressing tightly against Parson's front, denim on denim providing delicious friction while hot puffs of air danced across Parson's cheek, the pressure of Eric's forehead on the bridge of his nose grounding him to the moment, and keeping him from doing anything embarrassing. Eric's nose slides along his not too long later, then gentle plush lips press to his, sweet alcohol mixing with coconut chapstick on Parson's tongue as he swipes it along Eric's lips. The taste of alcohol deepens when Eric grants him entrance to his mouth, and Parse tries to catch every trace of it, stroking and licking every inch of Bitty's mouth with his tongue, delighting in the soft groans and sighs he worms out of him. When they pull away for air Bitty's eyes are dark, and his lips are delightfully swollen. He looks like he's been despoiled and Parson wants everything that boy is willing to give him. "We should go before I try and take you right here," Parse whispers in Bittys ear, relishing in the moan the boy let's out at that. 

"Alright," Bitty sighs out in reply, taking out his phone to text Chowder to stay with Lardo, then allowing Parson to link their fingers together again and lead him out to get a cab. 

The cab ride is mercifully short, and they manage to limit themselves to minor groping the entire time. When they reach Parson's apartment building he tosses a few tens at the driver with a nod and walks as briskly up to the front doors as he can. He strides quickly through the lobby after buzzing himself in and prays that the elevator is empty. It isn't, but the elderly man that occupies it gets off on the second floor so Parse thinks nothing of shoving Eric up against the side of the elevator, claiming his lips hungrily, moaning when Eric wraps strong thighs around his hips and grinds them together again. The bell chimes to announce the floor and the doors rumble open with a purr, Parson sets Bitty down gently and digs his keys out of his pockets, pulling Eric along behind him until he reaches the entrance to his too-large for one person penthouse (hey, he's a Stanley cup winning hockey player, what do you want from him?). He barely pauses to kick off his shoes at the door, allowing Eric to do the same, before he picks him up again, cupping his arse in his hands and feeling the muscles of his thighs flex and relax against his forearms, while a cheeky tongue traces patterns on his neck.

He only just makes it to his bedroom in the dark, only half aware of his surroundings and entirely too focused on how incredible Bittle feels in his arms. Parson deposits him on the bed with a light bounce, then fishes lube out of his bedside table drawer. Kent leans over to kiss Bitty again before going any furthur, moaning low in his throat as lips glide together and tongues intertwine. He cautiously slides a hand over Bitty's crotch, playing with the zipper and waiting until he gets a whispered "yes" to continue, sliding down the zipper, then popping open the button and sliding Bitty's white shorts down, his hands stroking soft creamy thighs the whole way down. Parson kisses his way back up, leaving pink spots and saliva on key points along the insides of Bitty's legs, from ankle to thigh, delighting in the soft gasps he earns. He licks up Bitty's toned stomach as he pushes up his shirt, feeling the twitches of lithe muscle at the contact. He's made keenly aware of the fact that he's wearing all together too much clothing by his cock jumping in his pants at the noises Eric makes, and hurries to peel off his own clothes, taking far less care with it then he had with Bitty's. Kent lays himself over Eric, pressing their bodies together with slow presses of his hips, tilting Eric's neck just so in order to give attention there with his teeth and tongue. The friction of cotton against cotton was nice, but not enough and Kent pulled back to remove his boxers, smirking at how eagerly Bitty does the same. He retakes his position over Bitty, taking their lengths in his hand and sighing in relief. He lets his mouth find Bittle's again, loving each jolt of his cock and the firm slide of them together, swallowing a moan when he swipes his thumb over the head and feeling a warm sigh ghost over his lips when Bitty uses his hips to add to the friction. Kent reaches with his unoccupied hand for the lube, uncapping it with his teeth to add a delicious slickness to their cocks, moans and gasps of praise slipping out of both their mouths. Kent feels a much smaller hand twine itself around his and he groans at the added pressure. Eric peaks first, headily breathing Kent's name like a prayer, while Kent says Eric's name in a smooth rumble. Kent collapses onto his side when he comes down from his high, tucking Bitty to his side as he prepares to sleep.

"Kent sweetheart, I am _so_ makin' you a pie tomorrow." Kent grins and kisses the top of Eric's head (let it never be said that Kent Virgil Parson leaves a partner unsatisfied). 

"Whatever you say Bits." 


	3. There's Something So Wholesome About You (Get Closer to Me)

Kent woke up to the sun shining through his curtains, the smell of bacon sizzling in a pan along with something sweet, and softly played music. He quickly pads to the bathroom to brush his teeth, then makes his way to the kitchen, stopping in the doorway to watch Bitty putter around the kitchen in nothing but an oversized Aces sweater, singing softly to himself.

“Honey, you’re familiar like my mirror years ago. Idealism sits in prison, chivalry fell on its sword. Innocence died screaming, honey ask me, I should know. I slithered here from Eden just to sit outside your door.”

“Morning Bits,” Kent says through a yawn, smiling when Eric whips around, spatula raised like a weapon.

“Good morning sweetheart,” Bitty says after he relaxes, then points to the dining table. “ I made breakfast, but I wasn’t quite sure what you liked and so I kinda made a lot… I hope you don’t mind.”

Kent turns his attention to his table and his jaw drops at the veritable feast he sees there; there’s two plates of scones, blueberry and vanilla, a platter of bacon and mini sausages, cheese and green pepper omelets, and a bowl of fluffy scrambled eggs. He snaps out of his food-heaven induced daze when Bitty clinks the glass jar of Canadian syrup against the cups of coffee he brought to the table and picks Bitty up in a bear hug. Then he holds him by the arms, and adopts a serious expression. “Bitty, can I hire you to be my housewife?”

“Well, I’ll have to think about it, although I do look mighty fine in a dress,” Bitty replies with equal gravity until they both burst out laughing. “Alright, enough foolin’ around and eat your breakfast! How do you like your coffee honey?”

“Three spoons of sugar and a bit of milk please Bits.”

“Sure thing Kent.” Despite Kent’s best efforts, not all of the breakfast is eaten and he saves the leftover scones in Tupperware to bring to the team. Once all the dishes are washed and food put away, Kent sidles up behind Bitty, hands slipping under his sweater.

“What shall we do now, Mr. Bittle?”

“Well, Mr. Parson,” Bitty says, squeaking a little as Kent’s hands begin to wander. “ Now we are going to get dressed and showered and take ourselves to the grocery store, because I believe I promised you a pie. I might have been able to make do with that crappy store brand flour for the scones, but my Mama would never forgive me if she ever found out that I made a pie with anything but White Lily.”

\---

There was an oddly domestic quality about the day that had Kent punching a wall to ground himself; he’d only really known Bittle for a day anyways. That did not stop him from groaning at the decadent, orgasmic layers of chocolate, bourbon and pecan that melded together in his mouth to create the best damn piece of pie he had ever eaten in his life. Or from lending Bitty one of his smaller t-shirts when a mysterious stain appeared on his shirt from last night. Or from offering to take Bitty out to see one of the many attractions that Vegas had to offer, in this case an opportunity to watch dolphins paint. “Oh my gosh, that would great! Would it be alright if one of my friends came? That sorta thing is right up his alley.”

“ I guess so, yeah.”

“Awesome, I’ll have him meet us in the lobby of our hotel, alright?” Kent nods and grabs the keys to his black Jeep Wrangler while Bitty talks excitedly into the phone to someone named Chowder (poor kid).

They stop at a hotel just off the main strip, a small place that probably averages at three stars if they’re lucky. Bitty holds his hand as they walk into the lobby, then waves at a shy-looking kid in a Sharks jersey and board shorts. “Hey there Chowder honey, you ready to go?” The boy nods, then gapes when he notices Kent. “Close your mouth sweetheart, you’ll catch flies. Chowder, you remember Kent Parson right?”

Chowder nods, still a little star struck, then offers Kent a hand. “I’m, uh, Chris Chow, but my teammates all call me Chowder.”

“Yeah, I remember you from that party. You’re the goalie, right?”

“Uh, yeah! That’s me,” Chowder replies with a nervous chuckle. Him and Kent talk hockey on the way back to the jeep, then all the way to the Mirage, where the dolphin exhibit and Secret Garden are. By the time they get to the hotel Bitty is bouncing in his seat in an endearing display of excitement, and he immediately latches onto Kent’s hand when they exit the jeep. Kent puts sunglasses and his cap on forwards so they don’t get swarmed by good-meaning Aces fans, but makes no move to let go of Eric’s hand. He pays for three regular passes and three special show passes, assuring the employee at the admissions counter that he only intended to watch the show, not participate.

The way Eric cooed over the animals was adorable, as was the excitable way he gushed over them, taking photos and posting them onto his twitter, taking a snap with him and chowder in front of the white tigers, then turning on Kent with hopeful eyes. “Alright, just one. But don’t post it or we’ll be attacked by Aces fans and paparazzi.”

“Whatever you say sweetheart,” Bitty replies, cuddling into his side and taking the picture. Since the dolphin show only allows two people to be near the water at a time, Kent spent the two hours on the sidelines, first following Bitty on twitter (and if @omgcheckplease wasn’t the cutest handle he’d ever seen) and then flicking through his recent tweets and pictures. He’s surprised to find that bitty does indeed look good in a dress, as well as a picture of the two of them together, frowning at the gap of space between them and the distantly polite look on his own face. It also makes him slightly uncomfortable how many of Eric’s tweets are about Jack; everything from checking practice, to outings for coffee and trips to the grocery store. It gives him a churning in his gut that he forces down, turning his phone off and switching his attention to the giggles coming from the poolside, and he smiles at the open joy on Eric’s face as he watches a dolphin glide a paintbrush haphazardly across canvas paper. When the two hours were up, Bitty excitedly runs over to Kent to show off his dolphin-assisted masterpiece, then get him to take a picture for his twitter. He also plants a deep kiss on his lips with a soft “Thank you,” that has Chowder looking away with a cough and pleasant warmth curling in Kent’s stomach. They head out of the exit afterwards, then climb back into Kent’s jeep. “Thank you for taking me out with you guys Mr. Parson.” Chowder says, practically beaming at Kent from the backseat.

“It was no problem Chowder, and you can call me Parse if you want, Mr. Parson makes me feel old.” (And reminds him of Bitty saying it in his ear huskily and now is not the time for a boner)

“Alright, Parse.”

“What should we do now?” Bitty asks, turning in his seat so he could see Chowder as well.

“Well, uh, the guys and Lardo were hoping you’d be back for dinner… Maybe Parse could come too?”

“Only if he feels like it honey, he might have some important NHL superstar business to take care of or somethin’ ”

“Nah, I’m good for dinner. I do have a practice tomorrow though, and a game on Thursday. ”

“Dinner it is then! Now, let’s go back to the hotel first so I can change.”

\---

Bitty steps out of the bathroom ,hair freshly washed in an aqua blue button up with the sleeves rolled up and tucked into tight blue jeans, a polka dotted bowtie around his neck. He flops down on his bed beside Kent and barely manages to get his shoes on when the door to the hotel room bursts open and Shitty runs in. “Bits, you’re back!” he scoops Bitty up into a bear hug, swinging him around.

“Shitty! Put me down!”

“No way bro, you ditched us yesterday!” Shitty shifts Bitty to his shoulder and bounces him around the room. “ Where’d you go anyway?”

“He was with me,” Kent supplies from the bed, “Sorry for stealing him away from you, but I just couldn’t help it.”

Shitty gapes as he takes in Parson, followed by a frown, and then drops Bitty onto the floor. “Well, I suppose I can understand wanting to hang out with Kent Fucking Parson, but we need to bond Bits!”

“And we have plenty of time for that still. Now, where’s Lardo, I made her promise to give me an account of every stupid thing you did last night so I can doll out proper punishment. I won’t have y’all corruptin’ my sweet little goalie child and thinking you’ll still get pies when we get back to the Haus!”

“C’mon, Bits, no! Not the pies! Have mercy,” Shitty says, kneeling on the floor and giving Bitty his best puppy dog eyes.

“Nu-uh. That only works for Chowder, now march mister!” Shitty sighs and gets up to lead Bitty to Lardo, Eric following and tossing a wink over his shoulder at Kent.

\---

When Bitty rejoins Kent, he’s got a plastic bag of clothes in his hand and is just hanging up his cell phone.

“Kent sweetheart, what’s in the bag?”

“Clothes, so you can, uh, stay over again.” Good lord but that smirk should be illegal.

“Well now, Mr. Parson, that’s awfully presumptuous of you.” Bitty replies, crossing his arms and leaning into Kent’s space. “Assumin’ that I want to stay over with you again.”

“I guess I was just being overly hopeful. My apologies, Mr. Bittle.” Kent puts the bag down and attempts to slide past Eric, but is stopped by a hand on his chest.

“Now I never said no. You just shoulda asked first.” Bitty kisses Kent lightly then picks up the bag to see what he had stuffed in there. “Good lord Sugar, who taught you to dress? This shirt does not go with those shorts and I don’t know where you found those god-damned chicken socks, but they’re going away right now.” Bitty sets to putting proper clothes into the bag, Kent’s barely muffled laughter going ignored for now, and the chicken socks get tossed across the room, landing in Nursey’s duffel bag. “Were you just laughing at me , Mr. Parson?”

“Possibly.”

“Well!” Bitty huffs, then let’s the cutest evil smirk Kent’s ever seen cross his face, and knocks Kent over onto his bed, straddling his hips.

“I can’t say I mind where this is going.”

“You won’t be saying that for long,” Eric replies, wiggling his fingers at Kent.

“Bits, what’re you- ah!” Kent is cut off by fingers digging into his ribcage, pulling startled gasps of laughter out of him. He tries to wriggle out from under Bitty but fails, strong thighs wrapped around his legs keeping him pinned to the mattress. “Bitty! Stop! Ha, get off!”

“Admit defeat Parson!”

“Alright, alright! Just get off!” Bitty stops, smiling smugly down at Kent, who is currently a little red in the face and huffing breaths. Then his expression suddenly changes and Bitty finds himself pinned under all 6 feet of Kent Parson, squealing with laughter as he’s tickled within an inch of his life.

“Lord, Kent! Stop!”

“Nu-uh Bits, revenge is sweet.”

“Kent- Virgil- Parson!” Bitty huffs out between giggles, squirming to get any part of his body free, but well and fully trapped beneath the much larger man. Then there’s a distressed squeak from the door and they jump apart, Bitty holding his sides and wheezing and Kent slipping his cap back on, both looking up to see an extremely red-faced Chowder looking anywhere but at them.

“Uh, Shitty asked me to tell you that were going now.”

“Thank you sweetheart, we’ll be down in the lobby in a sec, okay?”

“O-okay,” Chowder practically sprints from the room, and bitty sighs.

“Poor thing. Well, let’s get going.”

\---

Shitty gives them a highly suspicious glare when they get down to the lobby, raising an eyebrow at the bag of clothes held in Bitty’s hand, but says nothing. Once everyone is accounted for they all pile into either the rental van or Kent’s jeep. Today Lardo chose an international buffet, which is guaranteed to please seven hockey players. There are plates piled high with every kind of food imaginable and multiple return trips, mixed in with food being caught in open mouths and Bitty trying to impart some of his southern table manners (and failing miserably). Nursey chirps Chowder relentlessly about his low alcohol tolerance and by the time dessert comes around everyone is happy and bears a healthy flush from food and alcohol. Eric and Kent share a make-your-own-sundae with extra sprinkles, and Bitty laughingly smears whipped cream over Kent’s cheek. This prompts a mini food war that almost gets them kicked out, and an extra charge on the bill that Kent covers with a grin and a wave of his platinum credit card.

There are a lot of knowing looks and “Get it Bitty”s when Bitty climbs into the front seat of Parson’s jeep instead of the van, accompanied by another strange look from Shitty, but Bitty just ignores them for the most part, sticking his tongue out before he rolls up the passenger side window. They get to Kent’s apartment in record time, but don’t feel the same sense of urgency as the night before. They change and brush their teeth, and then lay down beside each other on the bed, cuddled close and trading long, luxurious kisses that made them tingle with warmth and smile, but didn’t induce any wildfire passion or need to make love. It was nice, comfortable even and it made both men wonder just what they were doing as they drifted out of consciousness somewhere between one kiss and the next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so next chapter we DTR and go to a Cirque du Soleil show!

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or the incredible web comic this fic draws from and I'm not making money off this. :)


End file.
